Conspiracy
by RedWing0109
Summary: After the shocking revalation about his ex Sarah, Nightwing is hard pressed to find out what's going on. But when there is nothing that could lead to Sarah, and she appears to be on the straight and narrow, how can Nightwing prove she's a crooked cop? And what will she do with the knowledge of his secret identity.
1. The Flames of Hell

**A/N:** So, here's my Nightwing story. Technically, it's the sequel to Something to Be Thankful For, although I am trying to write it to be read on its own. Let me know how I do with that.

**DISCLAIMER:** As epic as it would be, I do not own Nightwing. Although I am VERY curious as to how he fits into the Death of The Family comic arc that's currently coming out. I'm going to collect every issue as they come out.

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Chapter 1—The Flames of Hell

Nightwing crouched on a ledge looking out across the grimy city. It had been five months since the incident in Gotham, and ever since Sal Viscone got locked up on Thanksgiving, there had been a lull in crime. Not that that was a bad thing, but Nightwing was getting bored. He had hardly seen any action since Thanksgiving, and ever since that one bonding moment between Jason and the rest of the family, the second Robin had been even more aloof than usual.

Nightwing turned and ran across the ledge, flipped over an alley, and landed on the roof of a run-down apartment building. He ran across it when he heard police sirens heading in his direction. The wind changed and he smelled smoke. He turned and saw smoke rising from an apartment building a few blocks over. The sirens from the fire trucks reached his ears.

Nightwing ran back across the rooftops before descending to the pavement two buildings away. The head was intense, and Nightwing began to sweat where he stood under his costume. He ran over to one of the police officers. "Is anyone still inside?"

"Yeah," the officer said. Dick didn't recognize him. "There're still some kids inside."

Nightwing nodded and shot a grapple line to the top of the building. The fire was huge, so he had no idea how long the structure would last. It would be better to work from the top down.

The heat was even more intense inside the building. Flames surrounded him, and Nightwing was given a grim picture of what hell must be like. His sharp ears strained to hear any noise that might rise over the crackle of the flames, but there was nothing. He began a quick but systematic and thorough search of the building.

Finally, three floors down, he heard the frightened screams of a little girl. Nightwing rammed his shoulder into a closed door, feeling the heat through the wood, and burst into a flame-engulfed room. A little girl no older than seven huddled under a glass and metal table crying and screaming. Nightwing ran through the flames and grabbed her, tucking her close to his body. He ran back into the hall. There was a crack from above him, and Nightwing dove forward into a roll, narrowly avoiding the collapsing ceiling. This only caused the girl to scream louder.

There was a blown-out window ahead of him, with a fire fighter visible through the flames. Nightwing dashed towards him and handed the girl through the window.

"You need to get out," he said.

"I have to get everyone else out," Nightwing replied.

"Check the next floor down," the fire fighter said. "The bottom three floors are empty."

Nightwing nodded and ran off, flipping over a flaming fallen beam. He searched through but found no one. The building shook around him, and the whole front end of the building caved in, successfully blocking his exit. With no way down, Nightwing began to go up, hoping to find a way out through the roof. The building continued to collapse as Nightwing reached the fifth floor, causing him to become increasingly creative about his escape route. Finally, inevitably, he was met with a complete dead end.

The ceiling above him cracked and a large piece fell on top of him, trapping his legs. Nightwing could feel the flames creeping up his costume, getting closer and closer to his face. Although his costume was fireproof, his head was not, and Nightwing was about to become birdie-barbeque.

Nightwing twisted around so he could reach his legs. After a combination of wriggling and pushing, he was free, although not without injury. His costume had torn through his lower left leg, and the limb was badly burnt and bleeding.

He was completely boxed in, and with no way out, Nightwing was forced to attempt to make his way through the flames. He raised his arm to protect his face and ran forward as best he could with his injured leg. Nightwing felt the flames begin to burn his face and was convinced that this was what hell must truly feel like. He did not envy the poor souls trapped in eternal punishment.

After what seemed like an eternity, Nightwing could swear he saw freedom. After a few more seconds, Nightwing was hit with a blast of water. Surprise forced him to cry out and his lungs were filled with water. Nightwing struggled, unable to breathe, against the impenetrable wall until finally his strength failed him and he fell into darkness.

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**A/N:** Well, what do y'all think? (No, I'm not from the South, but I do say "y'all") Please, _please_, review!

~Red~


	2. Sarah

**A/N:** Many thanks to my one reviewer BrowncoatTimeLord613. Please, people, please review. I really like hearing what you guys think of my writing. Enjoy the chapter!

**DISCLAIMER:** I'm only saying this because I don't want to be accused to copyright infringement. I own NOTHING.

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Chapter 2—Sarah

Nightwing woke in the back of an ambulance that had yet to leave the scene of the fire. There was a cool sensation on his leg, although he could still feel the burning underneath. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. He attempted to sit up and take his bearings.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a female voice said. To Nightwing's right was a rather pretty blonde nurse. "You might have a concussion from your fall."

Nightwing rolled his eyes under his mask as he reached up to feel the side of his head, which he just noticed was pounding. It hurt worse when he presses against it, and he knew the nurse was correct. Then he began to remove the oxygen mask from his face. When the nurse moved to stop him, he brushed her away. "I can breathe fine without it," he said once it was off. His throat still ached from all the smoke he had breathed in, but he had no difficulty breathing.

The nurse gave him an exasperated look before turning away. "If you insist."

Nightwing swung his legs over the end of the stretcher and attempted to stand. His head and his leg both hurt like hell, but not so much that he wouldn't be able to get home as long as he didn't run into any trouble.

The nurse heard him get up. "You shouldn't stand yet."

"I'm fine," Nightwing protested. "I just need to get home."

"I can go find one of the officers to drive you," she suggested.

"No. My home is kinda—"

The nurse bent forward so her face was near his. "Or I could take you."

Nightwing leaned away, eyes narrowing. He had not seen her face in nearly five months; the police chief said she was on leave for "personal business." Yet he clearly recognized her.

"Sarah."

Sarah laughed. "Of course, darling." She pulled off the blonde wig "Who did you think I was?"

Nightwing scowled. She was back. After five long months of searching, he had finally found her again. He reached forward slightly and touched his gloved hand to Sarah's face. Despite breaking up with her and discovering she was one of the people he was fighting to put behind bars, he was still in love with her. "Sarah."

She brushed his hand away. "What are you trying to do?" she asked. "If you want to know where I was, that's not going to cut it." Her hands moved to remove his mask. "Dick."

Nightwing slipped away from her and grabbed the wig. "I need to leave." He tossed her the wig. "Tell them you discharged me."

"You know nurses can't do that."

"Then tell them that I left of my own accord." Nightwing exited the ambulance, pushing past a concerned looking EMT.

The building was no longer burning, and EMTs were tending to those who had been burned in the blaze. BPD officers were keeping civilians and overly nosy journalists away from the victims. The crowd began shouting louder when they saw Nightwing. He slipped into an alley and vanished from the sight of the crowd. He scaled a building using his grapple and began to make his way back to his apartment, his leg throbbing.

Sarah was back. After five long months, she was suddenly there, where he was, seemingly caring for him in the guise of a nurse. Something had stirred inside Nightwing when he saw her, something that he had thought he wouldn't feel again. He had realized that he still loved her. How could he still love someone who was so bad, someone who had attempted to kill him as he tried to save his brother's life?

Nightwing entered his apartment through the window and sat down on the couch. Maybe it was like Bruce and Selina. When Bruce fell for her, she was a burglar, and now she helped him on cases. Of course, she still stole occasionally, but most of what she did now was hero work.

No. Nightwing couldn't let the hope rise. For all he knew, Sarah could play him until he thought she had changed before betraying him. She could keep him on the hook forever he attempted to let her in again. Nightwing needed to find out what she knew. He gathered that she knew more than his identity. Did she know Bruce's? Jason's? Tim's? Damian's? His family wouldn't be safe until he knew and either reformed her or locked her up. Until she was put away, Nightwing knew she would slowly drive him mad until she was able to begin her end game.

What was her end game? The more Nightwing thought about it, the less he realized he knew, and the more confused he became. He would have to confront her, play the part of the concerned co-worker… No. That would never work. It was common knowledge that he broke up with her. He would need to go about it carefully, but he would have to confront her soon, before she vanished again. His questions demanded to be answered.

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**A/N:** Please review this! I really wanna know what you guys think!

~Red~


	3. Calling in a Favor

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter! I hope you guys like it! I finally brought another Bat into the story!

**DICLAIMER:** I really, really wish I owned Nightwing and all the other characters owned by DC Comics, but I don't...

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Chapter 3—Calling in a Favor

Officer Dick Grayson walked into the Blüdhaven Police Station, saying hi to his co-workers like he did every day. When he got to his small office, however, he stopped. There was a honey blond woman sitting on his desk waiting for him, like she used to do most days before they broke up. Her brown eyes locked onto Dick's blue ones instantly.

"Get out," Dick said.

"Why?" Sarah stood and walked over to Dick. She reached out her hands, as if to hug him, but Dick grabbed her arms and turned her around.

"Leave. I have work to do."

"I only wanted to talk to you," Sarah protested softly, not even fighting Dick's grasp.

"We can—" Dick lowered his voice. "We can talk tonight. The roof of the old Wal-Mart."

"We can talk now," Sarah said, her voice also low.

"Sarah, I have to go to work right now."

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"The police caught the arsonist from last night," Dick explained.

"With that limp? You'll never be able to catch him. What was your story, anyway?"

"I twisted my ankle jogging this morning," was the reply.

"Obviously a practiced story," Sarah remarked. She shook one of her hands free and placed it on his face. "And your burn?"

"Minor enough that make-up covered it," Dick said. Why was he telling her this? She wasn't his girlfriend anymore. She was his enemy. "Anyway, you need to go. I really need to read the file on the arson."

"As if you already didn't know everything in it." Sarah shook herself free of his grip and walked out of his office.

Dick sat at his desk and looked over the file. There was nothing in it that he didn't already know from hacking police computers as Nightwing last night. The arsonist was obviously in the building when the fire happened, on the upper floors. The fire department had found traces of a flammable material on many surfaces in the building, which was how the fire spread so quickly from the upper floors. Many people who had escaped had minor burns, most of them from the upper floors. However, one man, a man who did not live in the building, had escaped from one of the upper floors without a single burn. He wasn't the first one out either. He was near the tail end of the escapees, but his surprising lack of burns and coughing from inhaled smoke allowed the police to pin him as their guy.

Dick put the file into his drawer. He hurried out of the building and into his police car. He was still shocked to have seen Sarah, especially to have seen her at the station. He thought that since she knew he was on to her, she would stay as far away from him as possible, but she was back in his life, acting almost as if nothing ever happened. But something had happened. She had revealed her true colors at the Viscone bust when she tried to keep him from saving his brother. She had tried to kill him.

Dick activated his radio. "Officer Grayson to Officer Marty."

"I read you Grayson," came the reply.

"I'm en route to the address."

"Everyone else is here," Marty said. "We're waiting on you to lead us in."

"Got it. Be there in a few." Dick turned on his police lights and sped through Blüdhaven. When he arrived at the scene, he saw that police cars had formed a barricade around the front entrance of the building. Officers were taking cover behind the cars, guns out.

"What's going on here?"

"We have a hostage situation," Marty said. "The perp knew we were coming for him, called some of his buddies, and took the whole building."

"Civilian casualties?"

"None that we know of for sure," Marty said. "We heard gunfire, so we're assuming that there are."

"Is the back covered?"

Marty just nodded.

Dick needed a moment to think—a moment he didn't have. There were hostages inside. Civilians. He needed to get them out. If he was Nightwing, Dick could just swoop in and take out the bad guys, but as Officer Grayson, things would be a lot more complicated. Swooping in and taking out the bad guys without firing a single shot would be suspicious. Someone would pin him as Nightwing, and if that someone was smart, that knowledge could lead to Bruce.

"Keep the men in line," Dick ordered Marty. "I need to make a call."

Back in his squad car, Dick pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jason.

"What the hell do you want, Dick?"

"How fast can you get to Blüdhaven?"

"Legally?"

"Any way you can." Dick took a deep breath. "I need a favor."

"What? Dick, do you know what time of day it is?"

"It's not my fault you stayed up all night. Just do this for me, and we'll be square for Thanksgiving."

There was a sigh from Jason. "Fine. What do you need."

"An appearance from Nightwing."

"What? Hell no!"

"You owe me, Jay," Dick reminded him. "I need this."

"Fine," Jason relented. "But never, _never,_ again."

"Thank you." Dick let out a small sigh of relief. "You know where I keep it?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

"Thank you!" Dick hung up the phone and got out the car.

"Who'd you call?" Marty asked when he saw his partner.

"I called in a favor from Nightwing," Dick said.

"You know Nightwing?"

"Sort of," Dick lied. "He helped me solve a case a few months ago that I did for the GCPD. We got into a tough spot, and I saved his life. He owed me a favor."

"When will be here?" Marty was getting suspicious, but only Dick's trained eye would have noticed it.

"In an hour," Dick said. "We have to hold off until then. We'll send in a hostage negotiator, bide our time."

"You go," Marty said. "You're our best."

Dick nodded. That was true. Thanks to Bruce's training, Dick was able to convince the police chief that he was a natural negotiator. He was often sent to negotiate with criminals. "Alright."

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**A/N:** Hope you guys liked! The negotiations are gonna be in the next chapter, along with more Jason! It'll be up in the next few days!

~Red~


	4. Negotiations Gone Wrong

**A/N:** So there's some Jaybird action in this one. Hope you guys like. :)

**DISCLAIMER:** I. Own. Nothing. That clear enough for you?

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Chapter 4—Negotiatons Gone Wrong

Dick opened his eyes to find himself bound and gagged. There was blood on his temple from where the rifle had struck him. He began rotating his wrists back and forth to loosen the knots. He had no idea how long he had been out, and that was starting to worry him. Dick considered himself lucky to be alone so he could make his escape.

The knots were horribly tied. What kind of villain couldn't tie a freaking knot? Dick was able to quickly untie his wrists and remove the gag. He pulled a comm link out of his pocket and placed it in his ear. "You in yet, Wing?"

"Are you seriously going to call me that?" Jason shot back. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I was a little tied up," Dick joked.

"Dammit! I was starting to get worried."

"Watch it," Dick hissed. "Wing doesn't cuss as much as Hood." He grabbed his police gear from where it lay by the door.

"Well maybe your precious bird is having an off day," Jason retorted.

Dick ran through one of the empty hallways towards where he thought the stairs would be. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Later," Jason said. "Things are about to get hot."

"And the civilians?" Dick asked, switching back to business mode and drawing his gun as he neared the stairs.

"Mostly out. The cops have the bottom two floors, but the top floors are still out of our control. The third is the worst."

"I'm on the top floor," Dick said, descending the stair case.

"Coming to meet you," Jason replied before cutting the link.

Dick ran down the strangely empty staircase, gun held at the ready. Even as a cop, Dick made a point of never killing. If he had to use his gun, he would use it to incapacitate his opponent. Today, however, Dick had a feeling that that wouldn't cut it.

When Dick came to the fourth floor—he had been on the tenth—he slowly opened the metal door before pulling it closed again before a barrage of machine gun fire could reach him. After a few moments, he slid the door open a few inches and used it as cover as he began to fire back, only aiming to wound. Five of the eight men fell before Jason took out the rest.

Dick emerged into the hall. "Took you long enough."

"Why don't you just use that thing on patrol?" Jason asked, pointing to the gun. "It would make things easier."

"Too easy," Dick replied. "Nightwing doesn't kill."

"Yeah, about that…" Jason rubbed the back of his neck.

"You didn't." Dick's voice was dangerous.

"I had no choice," Jason protested as Dick began to cuff the unconscious gangsters. "He had a girl in a choke hold and the only way to get him off of her was to snap his neck."

Dick looked up at his brother and raised an eyebrow. "Only way?"

"He still ended up killing her before I could get there, so there was no way anyone saw it!" Jason protested. "Besides, he looked like he wanted too—"

"I get it," Dick said, cutting him off before he could finish. "Let's just finish this." He turned on his police radio, thanking God that it wasn't broken. "Grayson to Marty," he said. "The fourth floor is ours. Have the boys take the third floor while Nightwing and I get keep moving up. Our man should be at the top."

"Roger that," Marty replied. "Just be careful. There's some serious sh—"

Dick clicked off his radio before Marty could finish his reply. It was time to work with his brother as a Bat, not a cop. "Move up a floor, and I'll go up two. We need to cover as much ground as possible. If what you say is true, then the police will have a hell of a time getting through." Dick tossed Jason his gun. "Take it. I don't care what they say right now. I can always claim that I was with you the whole time and I was the one with the gun."

Jason handed it back. "Not Nightwing's style," he commented. "And we're sticking together. Last time you did this alone, you nearly got killed."

"Dick ruefully touched the dried blood on his head. "Minor wound. I've fought with worse. And it's not a concussion," he added at Jason's raised eyebrow.

"Whatever." Jason resumed his usual attitude. He followed Dick out into the hall and up the stairs. When Dick reached his floor, Jason didn't leave his side.

"Keep going," Dick hissed.

"We're staying together on this one," Jason replied. "Concussion or not, you're not in your suit so you can't go all out. I don't want Bruce on my case for not keeping you alive."

Dick rolled his eyes even though he knew Jason couldn't see him. "Fine. Just keep an eye on my back." He glanced behind him to see his scowling brother holding his escrima sticks. They looked awkward in his hands. "Let's go."

Dick led Jason into a room full of gangsters. There were hostages, but Jason flipped over Dick and knocked the guns out of the guards' hands. Dick holstered his gun and began freeing the hostages. "Hide on the fifth floor until the police come and get you. Don't go down any farther, no matter what anyone hears."

"We should hurry," Jason said to Dick. "Someone will have heard that." Dick just nodded.

"Mr. Nightwing, sir?" Dick looked up to see a little girl pulling on Jason's sleeve. "Are we gonna be alright?"

Jason flashed a panicked look at Dick, who nodded. "Of course," Jason reassured her.

It was strange to hear calming, reassuring words coming from Jason's mouth. The girl wrapped her arms around Jason's waist, and the disguised hero stiffened for a moment before awkwardly hugging her back. Then the girl scurried away into the arms of a man Dick assumed to be her father. The now free hostages shuffled out of the room as quietly as they could.

"I didn't know you had a soft heart, Jay," Dick smirked once the door to the stairwell closed.

Jason let out a very Batman-like growl. "Don't press your luck, Grayson. You still need me to help you with the boss."

"Let's just go," Dick said, gesturing towards the stairs.

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**A/N:** Hope you guys enjoyed! :D Thanks for reading, and please review!

~Red~


	5. Arsonist

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! I went away for a few days, and then my internet went all screwy, and I finally was able to get on again from something other than my iPod. Anyway, enough of that. Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 5—Arsonist

The roof appeared to be empty at first glance, but all of Dick's training, police or otherwise, told him to never trust his first glance. He raised his gun, ready for anything, before taking a cautious step out.

Jason was hovering at his shoulder, escrima sticks at the ready. "Where the hell is he?"

"He could be anywhere," Dick muttered back. He gestured with his gun, pointing it twice to the right and once to the left. _I'll go right, you take the left. We'll surround him._

He turned back to see Jason nod, but his eyebrows were knitted together under the mask. _What if he's behind us?_

Dick shrugged. _Improvise._

Jason nodded again, this time a true affirmative before he moved away silently to the left. Dick went to the right, creeping around the edge of the air conditioning unit that was the largest spot of cover on the roof. He paused for a count of two before rounding the last corner. A jet of flame shot towards him, and Dick had no choice but to launch himself up and over the inferno. He executed a flip before landing surely on his feet. He could hear the crackle of flames as the roof caught fire behind him.

"You're quiet nimble for someone who's been out of the acrobatics business for nearly twenty years," the arsonist commented knowingly. "Some might say too nimble."

Dick gave a nonchalant shrug. "What can I say? I have to stay in shape for my job, and if that means I get an excuse to swing on a trapeze every now and again, I take it."

"Sure you do, Nightwing," the villain said.

"Who're you calling Nightwing?" Jason called as he stepped around the edge of the AC unit.

"Ha! A clever ruse, Jason Todd, but not clever enough. My employer gave me all the names I needed to know to complete my mission, her objective."

"Give it up, Arsonist!" Dick called, leveling his gun at the man's chest. Bruce said never to kill, but this was different. This was protecting his—and his family's—safety. "You take one more step, and I'll fire!"

"Funny you should mention fire," Arsonist said. He launched himself towards Dick and let loose a stream of flame.

Dick dropped and rolled out of the way, coming up cursing, and he let a bullet fly at the Arsonist. Then he jumped for cover behind the air conditioning unit, feeling the metal heat up from the flames that were spreading around the roof. There was another _woosh_ from the flamethrower.

"Shit! Watch where you point that thing!" Jason shouted.

Dick began to make his way around the AC unit. "Careful," he said into his comm. "Arsonist's unstable."

"The hell he is," Jason snapped back.

Dick grabbed his brother's shoulder and turned him around, pressing the gun into Jason's hand. "You know I can't." He took his escrima sticks from his brother.

Jason nodded before turning and trying to find an opening in the flames. The fire was roaring now, and Dick began to fear for the safety of the building. _Where was the fire department?_ The heat was making him dizzy, and wearing a heavy Kevlar police vest wasn't helping anything. He swayed slightly, bumping into the metal box they were using for cover and jumping back.

Jason turned. "You alright?"

"Fine," Dick grunted. Jason raised an eyebrow. "Heat." Dick gestured around him.

"Sit," Jason ordered.

Dick nodded but remained standing. Passing out now wouldn't be a great idea, but neither would letting his guard down.

"Afternoon, boys." There was another burst of flame from Arsonists' flamethrower, and Jason flipped over Dick, taking the brunt of the blast. He went down, and Dick hoped he was only unconscious.

Dick dropped the escrima sticks and dove for the gun, which had slid across the roof. The metal burned his hands when he touched the weapon, but he didn't drop it. Dick rolled as another burst of flame shot towards him, and fired off two quick shots as he came up. Both hit the villain in the back—one in the heart and the other in the spine—and he dropped like a stone.

Dick finally heard the sirens that signaled the arrival of the fire department. He ran over to Jason and checked his pulse. It was strong, and the Nightwing suit had protected his body from being burnt to a crisp. There were a few burns on his face, but nothing that wouldn't heal within a few weeks, and Jason probably wouldn't even care since his mask covered his whole face anyway. Dick carefully pulled his brother into a fireman's carry and made his way towards the stairs. With Jason out cold, there was no way he could use the grapple to get them off the roof without giving them both away.

"Put me down, Dick!" Jason grumbled suddenly, whacking Dick in the side.

Dick lowered Jason to the ground. "Good to see you're awake," he said.

"Yeah, whatever." Jason stood, his legs slightly trembling from just being knocked out. "Just don't expect another favor for trying to save my ass."

Dick gave a dry laugh. "Got it. Get us out of here? Being in hell on earth for the second day in a row isn't fun."

Jason pulled a grapple gun out of his—Dick's—belt and shot it towards the roof across the street. They were about to take off, the AC unit exploded, and the edge of Dick's pants caught fire. They were already off the roof by the time either of them noticed, so when the landed, Dick pulled off his shirt and used it to smother the flames. His leg had been burnt, again, and Jason helped Dick out of the building and over to an ambulance.

"Meet me back home?" Dick asked quietly just before Jason left.

"You have a lot you need to tell me," Jason replied, and then he was gone, refusing help from the EMT who came over to tend the burns on his face.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Hopefully, the next one will be up soon since I'm almost done writing it. Sarah's character is a little hard, but I think I'm getting the hang of her. And creating more mysteries than answers...

No matter. All will be answered in its time! Review please!

~Red~


	6. Nighttime Discussions

**A/N:** Sorry for the hiatus. The laptop has no internet, and I've been sick for the past few days. Here's a longer chapter for you guys for being patient!

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Chapter 6—Nightime Discussions

Marty dropped Dick off at his apartment building after dark. After much arguing with the doctor, Dick had been discharged from the hospital despite the doctor wanting Dick to stay overnight so they could keep an eye on his leg. Once Dick was officially discharged, he had called Marty, asking for a ride home.

Dick gave noncommittal answers to all of Marty's questions until the man figured he wanted to be left alone. Dick spent the rest of the ride contemplating the events of the day. The fight on the roof had been interesting. Despite the fire department's best efforts, the building collapsed, and three civilians and one police officer had gotten trapped and killed in the blaze.

In addition to that, Dick had killed someone. He had no choice, of course. If the Arsonist had gotten arrested, he would have spilled Dick and Jason's secret identities, and it wouldn't be long before the rest of his family's secrets became common knowledge. It was more than that, though. Killing the Arsonist was the only thing that had given Dick and Jason a chance to get off the roof alive. And even if Dick had merely knocked him out, there was no way he could have gotten the Arsonist off the roof, even with Jason's help. He would have burned to death in the inferno. But that still didn't justify what Dick did.

Dick opened the door to his apartment, not surprised to see Jason sitting on the couch, back in his usual clothes, polishing one of his pistols. There was a bandage on his face that hid a burn, but the rest of his face was alright, if a little red. The television was on in the background, a news report detailing the event of the fire. Dick walked in just as the names of the deceased were being released.

"…and finally Officer Janet Wilson was killed by a bullet wound as she was defending civilians," the attractive female reporter was saying, "a wonderful example of the police bravery we saw today on the front lines in our own city's war against crime. In other news, the police have confirmed that the same man who held the building hostage and burnt the building to the ground was the arsonist responsible for last night's tragedy. Police have not yet confirmed whether this man has survived today's fire, but from what we have heard, his chances aren't looking good."

Dick grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, not wanting another reminder of what he did.

"Hey! I was watching that!" Jason protested when the screen turned black.

"I heard enough of it at the hospital," Dick replied.

"You didn't do anything but send him to hell faster," Jason said. "Even between the two of us, we couldn't have saved him."

"Is that how you rationalize it?" Dick nearly shouted. "That you 'can't save' all of them?"

Jason held up his hands. "I'm just saying what's true."

"Get out!" Dick pointed at the window. "Get out now!"

"Alright, alright," Jason soothed. "Damn, what did I do?" Jason climbed backwards out the window and onto the fire escape before turning and vanishing into the night.

Dick slumped on the couch. Killing the Arsonist had put him in a really bad mood. He knew Bruce wouldn't be proud of his actions, and ever since he had become Nightwing, Dick had been doing all he could to gain Bruce's approval of his role. Jason did have a point though. Dick had saved the man a lot of suffering; dying from a bullet to the heart is a lot less painful than burning to death.

Dick looked over at the luminous digital clock face on the cable box. 10:30 pm. He assumed Sarah would want to meet him around midnight, and he had a bone to pick with her about the Arsonist and his identity. Dick slipped into the bathroom and got a quick shower to clear his head before pulling on his Nightwing costume and slipping out through the window.

His bike was hidden in a secret indentation in the wall behind a dumpster. Since the old Wal-Mart was all the way across the city, Dick figured he would make better time if didn't fly like he preferred. He especially wanted to arrive before Sarah, which would give him the balance of power during the meeting. He needed that tonight, especially considering the position he and Sarah were currently in.

The fact that Dick still liked Sarah puzzled him. She was a criminal. One of the people he was fighting to get off the streets and behind bars. She wasn't just one of the people at the station anymore. She never would be.

And yet, these feelings were there, bubbling up inside him like an uncontrollable fountain. He had to be able to control them, although he didn't know how. He'd never had to.

Dick parked his bike in the shadows cast by the large abandoned superstore. He launched his grapple towards the roof and flew up, landing soundly on his feet and only getting a small twinge of pain from his leg. He leaned up against the large AC unit on the roof and waited, concealed by the shadows and content to watch the city lights until Sarah arrived.

After a few minutes, Dick began to get bored. His mind wanted to wander, but he had to keep a lid on it to keep it from wandering where he didn't want it to go. He pushed himself away from the AC and began to pace around the roof. Normally, he could've sat for hours unmoving, watching what was going on around him or just listening to the sounds of the city, but Dick was overly restless, even more than he had been as a nine year old in a brightly colored costume. The events of the day wouldn't leave him alone, and it was hurting his concentration to the point where he had to pace to keep his mind away from them.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and a knife gently touched his Adam's apple before he was released. Dick turned to see Sarah, standing alone with him on the roof, the knife nowhere in sight.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to show," Dick said with a small smile.

"You doubted me?" Sarah pouted. "And just when I was beginning to think I had a chance with you." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

Dick wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Why would I ever do that?" It was just like old times, the easy meaningless banter flowing back and forth between them effortlessly.

"Oh, you know…" She trailed off noncommittally.

"For no reason at all," Dick finished before allowing Sarah to press a kiss to his lips.

Instinctively, his free arm wound around her waist while her hand pushed through his grip and into his hair. The hand that had been holding her wrist trailed along her arm and onto her back. They melted together, and for a moment it was just like old times before Dick realized what was going on and pulled back.

"How do you know who we are?"

The question came so soon after he broke the kiss that Dick saw Sarah's eyes flutter open in shock. "What?"

"You know," Dick repeated. "How?"

"A girl has her ways," Sarah replied.

Dick grabbed her shoulders. "Tell me."

"Intimidation's not going to work," Sarah chastised. "I know you too well."

"You don't know me as well as you thought," Dick said.

"Oh, you mean about killing poor Arsonist?" Sarah laughed. "He knew he was going to die before he started. Your actions didn't surprise me in the least."

She was lying. She had to be. "What do you mean?"

"You killed him out of mercy," Sarah replied. "He was going to die, and you only helped along."

"That's what I've been told."

"It's only the truth."

Dick scowled and turned away from her. Two could play at this game. "So you're saying I'm a murderer now?" The question was filled with all the anger and scorn he could put into it.

Sarah was silent, clearly shocked by not only the question, but its delivery also. To her credit, she recovered quickly. "You know what I meant."

He turned around, facing her again. "No. Enlighten me."

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get any words out, she put a hand to the Bluetooth in her ear and turned away from him. "What? … I'm in a meeting. How important is it? … On my way." Sarah turned back to Dick. "I have to run, love. I'll see you soon, I promise."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you guys think! I'll update faster for more reviews!

~Red~


	7. Anger

**A/N:** Next chapter's finally here! Sorry for the delay. My Nana died just over a week ago. :(

* * *

Chapter 7—Anger

Jason crouched outside the Blüdhaven warehouse, his Red Hood mask covering his face. Dick had no right to blow up at him like that. Hell, Jason had been right! Arsonist would have died anyway, and a quick death, although not the kind he would have granted the man, was far more preferable to a slow, painful one.

A car pulled up outside the warehouse. It was black, with tinted windows, and the license plate had to be a fake. The back door was opened by a thug who had been waiting outside for its arrival and Sarah stepped out. While she conversed briefly with the man, Jason screwed a silencer onto one of his pistols before shooting the guy. Once he had dropped, Jason jumped in front of Sarah, his gun pointed at her head.

"Get back in the car," he ordered. "Now."

Sarah sighed and climbed back in. Jason slid in after her, and held the gun up menacingly when the driver glanced back at him.

The car began moving again, going in no particular direction. There was silence for a few minutes before Sarah spoke. "Jason."

"How the hell do you know my name, lady?" Jason demanded, cutting off whatever she had been about to say.

Sarah leaned close to Jason in the car. "You make a better Red Hood than you do a Nightwing."

"You were there?" Of course she was. If Arsonist had been working for her, she had been there.

"Of course, love," Sarah purred. Too many buttons were open on her blouse, showing off her chest. "I know who you are." She leaned closer, her lips barely an inch away from his helmet.

"When did you find out?" Jason did his best to keep his voice in check. Damn, what was it about this woman that made his heart beat faster?

Her fingers were on the edge of his helmet now, lifting it off of his head. Before he knew it, her hands were in his hair, and her lips were pressed against his, and Jason never wanted them to move. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, his gun long ago abandoned on the floor of the vehicle. Their kiss was passionate, hungry. Every time Jason thought it couldn't get deeper it did. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, the sweet aroma taking over all of his senses. God, she smelled better than Poison Ivy, and that woman had the scent of seduction down to a—

Jason released Sarah, pushing her as far away from himself as the backseat would allow. The scent of the perfume still strong in his nose, as if it had been activated by their kiss. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"What the _hell_ did you do to me?" Jason demanded angrily. He scooped his gun off the floor of the car, thankful it hadn't slid under the seat, and aimed it at her head. At such a close range, he couldn't miss, but shooting her—as much as the thought appealed to him—would have been counterproductive to his goal.

"I gave you what you wanted."

"Lady, that is not what I wanted." Jason cocked the gun. "Now you tell me what I came here to find out, or I blow your damn brains right out of your head!"

"There's nothing to tell, Jason," Sarah said. She leaned closer again, despite the cold metal of the gun that was now touching her forehead. "You already know."

The car pulled up to a curb and stopped, the driver clearly waiting for Jason to get out. Jason opened the door and slid out, slamming the door as hard as he could behind him before vanishing into the alley the car had stopped in front of.

Using the fire escape, Jason climbed up onto the roof of the building to his right before jumping across to the roof the next building over. He had a lot to think about. Sarah had told him that he already knew how she found out, but he hadn't told her. Hell, he hadn't even officially met her until now. He had been barely conscious when Nightwing fought her in Gotham. And Dick sure as hell didn't tell her. Jason really needed to talk to him if he was going to find out what was really going on. And God forbid Bruce gets brought into this mess.

There was a scream from an alley Jason was about to jump across and he crouched low to the roof before peering over the edge. There was a woman being pushed up against the side of the building opposite Jason by a large man who held a knife to her throat. There was already a scrape on the woman's shoulder from where he had presumably thrown her to the ground. Her purse was laying several feet away; this man was interested in getting more than a few bucks off of her.

Jason slowly drew his gun, trying not to make any noise that would draw either of them to him. Aiming quickly, Jason let a bullet fly into the man's left shoulder. He dropped to the ground, and Jason knew that he was dead. The woman screamed again at the sight of her would-be attacker bleeding out in front of her. She edged around him and scrambled to her purse to call the police.

Jason didn't wait around. He jumped across the alley and continued his run across Blüdhaven, looking for more ways to let out his anger, shooting down any criminals he came across. Dick would kill him later for it, but with each criminal he gunned down, Jason felt a rush of satisfaction.

Sarah was giving him and Dick hell, and she knew it. Her charms wouldn't work forever, though, and she would rue that day. Jason swore on it.

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**A/N:** So how many of you are actually reading this story? Because's it's one of my favorite things to write, and I really want to hear what you guys think of it. :)

~Red~


	8. Discovery

**A/N:** Here's the next chapter! Sorry for the wait!

* * *

Chapter 8—Discovery

Jason didn't return to Dick's apartment that night. Instead, he crashed in an abandoned apartment building for the rest of the night and through the next day. He had a lot to think about; his encounter with Sarah had thrown him for a loop. He and Dick were in far more danger than they originally thought, and as much as Jason would love to pull out and let Goldie deal with his own problem. It was his problem. _Was_ being the operative word. Sarah now seemed to have her sights trained on Jason, and that made it his problem. Now he just had to figure out how to get along with Dick for just one case.

Night had fallen again when Jason left the apartment he had squatted in for a day. He and Dick needed to talk, and there was no time like the present. Damn Goldie and his request for Jason's help. Damn Jason for actually helping him. Damn Sarah for making a move on Jason. Damn this whole shitty situation.

Dick's apartment was empty. His blue BPD uniform was strewn on the floor of his bedroom, and the hidden alcove that held his Nightwing uniform was open and empty. Other than that, the apartment was pristine.

But something was wrong. Dick would never leave any evidence of his vigilante life out in the open for someone to find. He always made sure the alcove was closed before leaving for patrol just in case someone decided to break in. Jason guessed that Dick had been taken from his home right before he went out on patrol.

Jason stood in the doorway, not entering the room for fear of contaminating evidence. One of the few things he had learned from Batman was that carpet was good at holding footprints, especially the type of carpet Dick had in his room. Jason crouched down and studied the floor carefully. He recognized the prints left by Dick's Nightwing costume. There was also a pair of slightly smaller feet and three pairs of much larger feet. Those prints were set deep into the carpet. The men were heavy, and Jason assumed that they had overpowered Dick fairly quickly.

Jason studied the smallest set of prints again. They were the lightest on the carpet, the hardest to see. They seemed to dance around the rest, as if their owner made the most movement. The indentations Jason assumed were Dick's moved the least in distance, but they were muddled over each other, as if Dick had turned a lot to try and face his opponents. The largest sets of prints gave the least indication of movement, aside from where they entered and exited the room.

Having gathered this information, Jason entered the room and made his way over to the alcove. It hadn't been tampered with, meaning that Dick was about ready to go on patrol when he was taken. _Damn!_ Jason moved the bookshelf that covered the alcove back in place and checked to make sure it was properly sealed before leaving the apartment. He would come back in a little while, pretend to find his brother missing, and call the police. It would work out better that way, since it would keep Dick's disappearance seem more… normal than it actually was.

An hour and a half later, Jason found himself speaking to Officer Marty, Dick's partner on the force. The cop's red hair still glistened with sweat from the drug bust he had just been on, a drug bust that Jason had alerted the police to.

Marty ran his hand through his thinning hair. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered as he looked around Dick's once pristine apartment.

Jason nodded and feigned a worried look. "Do you have any idea of what happened?" The living room had been overturned, as if a fight had taken place there. Furniture was overturned and books and picture frames with cracked glass were scattered around the floor. The wreckage extended slightly into the hall, but not too much. The couch was tipped forward, one armchair was tipped back, and the other was lying on its side. Dick would probably hate Jason for the wreckage later, but all in all, Jason was proud of his work.

"I can't tell what happened beyond what you've already told me," Marty said. "Forensics will be here any minute to search the apartment."

Jason just nodded and gritted his teeth, shifted his weight. He knew that his body language would give Marty the impression that he was worried about Dick—which, although he would never admit it, he was—but in reality, Jason was impatient. Forensics was takings its time getting to the apartment, time that Jason could be out spending time looking for Dick. God only knew what Sarah could do to him in a few the few hours that he had been missing.

Once the forensics team arrived, time began to move more quickly. Jason was questioned by several different police officers, and he told them all the same practiced story. He was coming to catch up with his older brother whom he had not seen in three months, and when he had let himself in, he found the apartment in its ramshackle state and called the police. It was well past midnight when Jason was finally free to go.

He ran out to his hidden motorcycle and placed his mask and helmet on his head. There was nothing certain about this case, other than Sarah would do something horrible to Dick if Jason didn't find him in time.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Please leave a review! They motivate me to write! :)

~Red~


	9. Prisoner

Chapter 9—Prisoner

Dick allowed his eyes to remain closed even after he had regained consciousness. The familiar feel of the mask that had adorned his face prior to capture was missing, as was the belt that was normally secured around his waist. His arms were stretched behind him, his wrists bound together with too-tight zip ties, and the plastic was cutting painfully into his skin due to the lack of gloves. His escrima sticks were missing from where they hung on his back, and his boots had been taken from his as well. For all intents and purposes, Dick felt naked, and he was glad he wasn't literally so.

There was no sound, hinting that Dick was alone. He opened his eyes. The room around him was complete bare save for the chair he was sitting on and an empty chair facing him. The walls were made of an old wood that would be easy to break through once Dick was able to get himself untied. The missing pieces of his costume were nowhere in sight.

Normally, Dick's mind would be racing through escape scenarios and possible motives for his capture, but his mind was sluggish, and those thoughts wouldn't come. If he tried to concentrate on one thought for an extended period of time, a headache would begin to develop and would only recede slightly if he cleared his mind. He had been drugged by whoever had captured him. He had seen his captor when before he lost consciousness, but he couldn't remember who he was.

Dick was about to try moving when a door behind him opened. Light, heeled steps walked around him, keeping to the edges of his vision before coming into view. It was Sarah, and she was alone.

"Hello, Dick," Sarah purred softly. "How's the head?"

Dick was instantly filled with an inexplicable rage, and he thrashed against his bonds. The zip ties cut into his wrists, and warm blood ran down his hands. "Untie me, you bitch!"

Sarah wagged a finger at him. "Ah-ah, that's no way to talk to a lady, even if she is your ex-girlfriend."

"I'll say whatever the hell I want!" Dick snarled, pulling harder on his bonds. A small part of his mind urged him to be rational, but whatever drug was in his system wouldn't allow that to happen.

Sarah placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Stay still, Richard. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

"What do you care?"

"I care a great deal," Sarah replied, her voice sleek and oily. She reached around him and touched his bloody wrists. "I see my new drug is taking affect."

Dick just glared at her, finally having gained control over his mouth.

"Giving me the cold shoulder is not a good way to get me back, Dickie." Sarah backed away from him. Dick still did not respond. "Very well. I won't tell you what new poison I've concocted and injected into your bloodstream." She laid her hand gently on his cheek. "I'm guessing you have about three hours to live."

Sarah removed her hand and walked around Dick and out the room. The door slammed shut.

For the first time, Dick noticed the burning in the crook of his elbow. The headaches made sense now. He had one now, and it wasn't lessening. Dick tried to clear his mind, attempting one of the meditation techniques that Batman had taught him to fight against the poison. His vision was fading, and Dick suspected that he would be comatose before he was dead. That was good. He wouldn't be in pain much longer. It would be so much easier to just give in…

_No!_ Dick's head snapped back up, and he looked wildly around. There were thumping sounds from outside the room he was in, and then three gunshots. The door behind him opened again and seconds later a slightly burly red helmet filled his vision.

"Damn it, Dick! What the hell happened to you?"

"J—Ja—" Dick's mouth was unable to form words. His vision was fading again, and his eyelids felt heavy.

"Stay with me!" Jason shouted desperately. "What did that bitch give you?"

"Poi—poissuunnn," Dick slurred before his eyes finally closed against his will.

* * *

Soft warmth enclosed Dick as he resurfaced to consciousness. His eyes were bombarded with blinding light, and he squeezed them shut momentarily before opening them again. Dick was in his apartment, safe and alive. His head still ached, and his throat felt like sandpaper had been rubbed along inside of it, but otherwise all effects of the poison seemed to have vanished. He coughed slightly and tried to reach for the glass of water on his nightstand, but his arm felt like lead.

"Here," a voice said as a straw was pushed gently between his lips.

Dick took a few sips to soothe his scratched throat before turning his head to see Tim sitting beside him. "Thanks. What happened, exactly?"

"Jason tracked your suit and found you in the abandoned Wal-Mart on the other side of town," Tim explained. "Sarah apparently had enough of the poison she hit you with to wipe out the entire city."

"Did Jay destroy it?"

"No," Tim said. "Once you lost consciousness, he brought you back here and called me. I was able to tell him what antidote to give you, and once I arrived, Jason left to go after Sarah."

Dick's bedroom door opened and Jason stormed in, throwing his helmet in the corner of the room. "Damn bitch moved the toxin before I could get back."

Dick pushed himself up with a little help from Tim. "I'll go back to work tomorrow and see if she's there. Maybe I can get her to spill something."

"You're staying here," Jason said. "Tim and I can do a sweep of the city tonight and see what we find."

Dick slumped back. "Fine. But when you don't find anything, we'll do it my way. You don't know her like I do."

"Dick, you have to get some rest," Tim protested. "You nearly died last night!"

"And I've nearly died dozens of times before," Dick shot back. "Why the hell are you two treating me like I can't handle this case?"

"Because it's personal," Jason said.

"So are most of your cases," Dick replied. "Your war on drugs is based on your childhood experiences."

"Dick has a point," Tim replied.

"So you're on his side now?" Jason began to move his hand towards his hip but checked himself. "Fine. _If_ our investigation doesn't yield anything, Dick can try his way tomorrow. But if we find even one tiny little clue tonight, Dick sits out the rest of the investigation."

"You won't find anything, so that sounds fair," Dick replied.

Jason scowled. "Fine. Come on, Tim. We have work to do."

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry I've been away. The end of the school year caught up with me, and I had a lot to focus on. However, now that it's summer, I plan to update this at least once every two days. And, as a bonus, I have the next chapter almost fully written, so I may have a second chapter for you guys today! Hope you guys enjoy, and as always, please leave me a review!**

**~Red~**


	10. Interrogations (part 1)

Chapter 10—Interrogations (part 1)

Dick walked into his office the next morning to find Sarah sitting on his desk. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her uniform was perfect. The only sign that she had met Jason two nights ago was the well-covered bruise that Dick could just make out on her left cheek.

"You're still alive," Sarah commented flatly.

"You sound surprised," Dick replied.

"Your brother set us back a few days," Sarah said quietly.

"That shouldn't be a problem for a big crime boss like you," Dick retorted just as quietly. He closed the gap between them with two steps. "You seemed to have everything under control the other night."

"I gave you a higher dose," Sarah admitted.

"So you're planning to sell," Dick guessed.

Before Sarah could reply, there was a knock on Dick's office door and a young officer named Jones, said, "Chief wants you to ID a suspect in your kidnapping."

"No problem," Dick replied easily. He sent a quick glare towards Sarah before following Officer Jones downstairs to the interrogation rooms.

Dick stood behind the one-way mirror and took a step back in surprise as soon as he saw the man behind the glass.

"Do you recognize him?" the Chief Franco asked.

"Yeah," Dick said. "But he wasn't one of the men that attacked me. He was at all of the fires Arsonist created, and he's been following me for several weeks."

"Do you know if he was at the warehouse where you were taken?"

"I'm not sure," Dick replied. "I was pretty heavily drugged. The only reason I'm not dead is because the vigilante known as the Red Hood rescued me."

"I thought he worked out of Gotham with the Batman," Jones said. He had recently transferred from the GCPD to Blüdhaven.

"He does," Dick said. "I'm not sure why he was here."

"I want an APB on the Red Hood to bring him in for questioning," Franco said to Jones.

"He was just trying to help, Chief," Dick said.

"He killed three men, Grayson," Franco replied. "I know you support the work of vigilantes in this city, but I have no tolerance for them." Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Franco held her hand up to silence him. "I only tolerate Nightwing because he hasn't killed anyone. I will not have a murder in my city."

Dick closed his mouth, knowing that any other defense he could provide could implicate himself. He turned back towards the interrogation room and studied the man. He definitely had been there during his kidnapping. Dick knew that Jason had only called the police because Dick had been gone for over twenty-four hours and the chief would have probably been wondering why he hadn't shown up at work. Jason had saved Dick, but the arrest of this man could possibly expose him as Nightwing.

Dick looked at the man's file. His name was Jonathan Eck, and he was known to be an accomplice of the Arsonist before the villain's death at Dick's own hands. It was unknown who Eck was currently working for.

Detective Carson walked into the interrogation room. The head detective for the BPD was a trigger-happy, slightly violent man who Franco had to reign in on occasion, but he was good at what he did, and he got the job done. His partner, Detective Cooper stood next to Dick to watch the proceedings.

Dick studied Carson as he sat in the chair opposite Eck. Carson was just over six feet tall with dark hair. He was wearing his pistol under his jacket, and there was a slight twitch in his right hand as if the detective would rather have his gun out.

"Let's start out with something easy," Carson said. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

Eck tilted his head to the side and smirked. "You think you're gonna get something outta me, don't ya, cop?"

"We can do this one of two ways, Eck," Carson began.

"I know," Eck replied. "The easy way or the hard way. I'm not an idiot; don't give me that bullshit."

Carson pressed his lips together. "You were found unconscious at the warehouse where Officer Grayson was held captive two nights ago. What were you doing there?"

"I was out for a walk, and I got caught in the fight," Eck replied smoothly, meeting Carson's eyes. Dick couldn't find any tell that the man was lying from where he was standing.

Carson reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, which he slid across the table. "Do you recognize this man?"

"Yeah, just some cop that was at the last Arsonist job," Eck replied. "The negotiator."

"This officer was kidnapped two nights ago and was rescued from the warehouse you were at."

Eck's brow creased in confusion. "I didn't see him there. Maybe he was inside."

Cason's left fist tightened at the small triumph. "We found you inside, unconscious and cuffed to a pole. You were there for a purpose."

"So what if I was?" Eck challenged.

Carson stood and pounded his "What was your purpose at Warehouse 87?" Carson asked, his voice raised in an intimidation tactic.

Eck snorted. "Really? Intimidation? You're not very good at getting answers out of suspects."

Carson growled and stormed out of the interrogation room. When he reached where Dick, Cooper, and Franco were standing, he said, "I don't think he knows anything, Chief. He's just a grunt."

"I don't think so," Dick replied. "He was there when I arrived. If he was allowed to be let in on something as big as attempting to murder a police officer, he has to know something of importance."

"Well why don't you try then, if you know so much about him," Carson retorted.

Dick turned to Franco, his eyebrow raised.

"If you think he might know something," she said, "be my guest."

* * *

**A second chapter today! I'm on a roll with this story! Next chapter will be up within two days. Thanks again for reading, and please drop me a review! I really appreciate them!**

**~Red~**


	11. Interrogations (part 2)

Chapter 11—Interrogations (part 2)

Dick entered the interrogation room and hovered by the door. The picture that Carson showed Eck was taken about a year ago, and Dick's appearance had changed slightly since then. He began to wonder if asking to interrogate the suspect had been a good idea. He took a deep breath and walked around the table.

"I know your face," Eck said before Dick got the chance to sit down. "You were at the warehouse."

"I was," Dick replied easily. "How are you? Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Don't try the good cop act," Eck snarled, his features going dark. "Your pal already tried the other routine."

Dick realized he had no advantage over this man. He knew who Dick really was. "Then what can you tell me about Saturday night?"

"You were in the warehouse," Eck said, "zip tied to a chair and dressed in a Nightwing costume. You look pretty damn like him."

"I do?" Dick said, feigning surprise. He had to steer the conversation away from himself. "Did you receive any orders that night from your boss?"

Eck leaned forward. "Come to think of it, you're the same height as the guy. Same build too."

"He is an acrobat," Dick commented. "And I used to be. There's no way I could do any of that now."

"I know the Nightwing at the fire was a fake," Eck whispered. "That it was just a double. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me."

Dick let his eyes wander over the man. The right sleeve of his shirt was pulled up slightly and Dick could just make out the tattoo that was there. "Who's Sarah?"

"No one," he replied quickly.

"Really?" Dick said, leaning back in his chair, knowing he had the man. "Because I used to date a girl named Sarah. Really special girl, beautiful blond hair. Is your girlfriend blond?"

"She's my wife," Eck replied.

"So you took off your ring for the job," Dick surmised. "Didn't want to lose it? Or did you have other things in mind?"

"Boss doesn't want us to have anything that can identify us or trace back to her," Eck growled.

"How could a wedding ring trace back to—?" Dick trailed off. "Unless you were married to the boss?" He leaned forward again.

Eck squirmed in his chair. He was caught and he knew it. "I'm not saying anything else."

Dick studied the man again. "Were you wearing a necklace when you were apprehended?" he asked.

"Yeah." Eck sat up in surprise. "Had my wedding ring on it."

Dick stood. "Thank you, Mr. Eck. That will be all for today." He walked quickly out of the interrogation room and said to the chief, "Check his wedding ring. It could give us a clue to who this Sarah is."

"Thanks, Grayson," Franco said. "How'd you know what to look for?"

"I was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes books when I was a kid," Dick shrugged. "The one thing Sherlock kept telling Watson was that the smallest, most seemingly unimportant details can usually solve a case."

"Well maybe we should require a class in Sherlock Holmes at the academy," Franco joked lightly. "Carson, Cooper, I want you two to go take another look at that ring. Let me know _immediately_ what you find."

"We'll get right on it, Chief," Cooper said.

"Good." Franco nodded at them and they headed towards the evidence room. "And Grayson, can you fill out a report on everything you remember from your kidnapping?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dick said. He turned and headed back to his office.

* * *

**I'll have part 3 up on Monday for you guys! I'm on vacation this weekend, and mountain cabins sadly do not have internet. Thanks so much for reading! This story is quickly drawing to a close, and even though there aren't many of you here, I'm very greatful for the few reviews that I've gotten! So, thanks again for reading and please leave me a review!**

**~Red~**


	12. Interrogations (part 3)

Chapter 12—Interrogations (part 3)

"You didn't tell me you were married." Dick was back in his office, Sarah sitting in her customary spot on his desk.

"There was never a need," Sarah shrugged.

"Yeah, there was," Dick replied. "I dated you for months—I even slept with you!—and you never felt the need to tell me you had a husband?"

Sarah shrugged. "It never came up." She reached over and took his hand, stroked it gently with her thumb. "But that's not really what you came to talk about, is it?"

Dick saw no point in beating around the bush. "What are you planning?"

"What fun is it if I tell you?"

"Just tell me!" Dick's voice was low, dangerous.

Sarah laughed lightly. "Come out to dinner with me tonight, and I'll tell you." She stood and walked towards the door.

"What—?"

"Mario's. 8 o'clock sharp. I've already made us a reservation." Sarah walked out of Dick's office without giving him a second glance.

Dick was, for once, genuinely glad that Bruce had dragged him to numerous fundraisers and banquets because it meant that he owned a tuxedo. Mario's was a five star restaurant just outside of Blüdhaven. Bruce had taken him there for this eighteenth birthday a few years ago, and then again on one of Jason's birthdays after he finally reconnected with the family. It was one of the few restaurants in Blüdhaven that actually required formal wear for entry.

Dick stood outside the restaurant and straightened his bow tie. Sarah was due to arrive any minute, and he was waiting for her before he took a seat. Despite her being his enemy, Dick was taught to always be a gentleman.

Sarah arrived five minutes later and Dick offered her his arm.

"Bruce taught you well," Sarah commented quietly as the maître d' led them to their table. "You're the perfect gentleman."

"I'm not here to play games, Sarah," Dick replied, equally quiet as he pulled out her chair for her.

Sarah sat down. "You said you wanted to know what's going on."

"And I do." Dick rounded the table and sat opposite her. "However I don't think you're going to just tell me."

"And what would make you think that?" Sarah placed her napkin on her lap. Dick attempted to read her. She was dressed just as nicely as he was in a provocative backless forest green dress with a plunging neckline. She wore a simply diamond necklace and more elaborate diamond earrings; a simple white gold bracelet was on her left wrist. She wore no wedding ring. A small smile graced her features, and her eyes were bright and knowing.

"What are you hiding, Sarah?" Dick asked.

"You assume so much, Dick," Sarah purred, leaning forward. The low light and candles on the table cast teasing shadows across her bust, and Dick had to force himself to look into her eyes.

"I assume nothing," Dick assured her. "You of all people should know that."

"Only because you lost so much due to your assumptions."

"I lost nothing." Dick's back was straight, keeping both a formal and dominating posture at the same time. Sarah needed to know that Dick was the one in charge.

Their waiter came and went through the list of expensive wines and champagnes. Dick ignored him, content to allow Sarah to decide—he wouldn't drink any regardless of what she chose—and cast his gaze around the restaurant. On the far side, a business meeting was taking place, possibly something to do with technology because Fai Fudo, owner of Fudo International, was sitting at the table. Dick also recognized mob boss Adrian Roswell sitting with a pretty, scantily dressed woman who had be his latest girlfriend in the center of the room. There was only one table that Dick could see that was occupied by a single man. He was dressed in a white tuxedo with a black waistcoat and bowtie. He was idly drumming his fingers in his jewel topped cane.

"You like Brut, don't you, Dick?" Sarah asked.

"What? Sorry." He looked between Sarah and the waiter.

"Our champagne special this evening is a 1998 Pol Roger Brut," the waiter repeated in what was clearly a fake British accent meant to add to the posh atmosphere.

"Yeah," Dick replied. "That will be fine." He cursed himself for his momentary lapse of attention.

"I do not have any men inside," Sarah admitted when the waiter had left. "I have no need of them at the moment."

"Tell me what you're planning," Dick warned, "or so help me I will arrest for kidnapping me right here and now."

"And risk exposing yourself as Nightwing?" Sarah laughed. "Not a chance."

"I wrote in my report that I had no idea who kidnapped me," Dick replied easily. "I could say that Nightwing tipped me off. It's common knowledge that he and I know each other."

"If you do that, I will expose you," Sarah threatened.

"Your husband already tried that. I refuted his claims pretty quickly."

"He's a criminal and I'm an officer of the law. My claims are more likely to be believed."

"I can come up with plenty of proof against you."

"As yourself, or as Nightwing?"

"Sarah, no matter what, I will beat you," Dick stated. "Now are you going to tell me what your plan is or not."

"You haven't guessed it by now?" Sarah laughed lightly as the waiter returned and poured them both champagne. She took a sip. "I'm surprised at you."

"I know you plan to use your drug to destroy Blüdhaven," Dick admitted, pretending to look at the menu. "I just want to know how because unless you have a microwave emitter, you won't get that amount of drugs out to the general populace."

Sarah gave a coy smile. "Who said anything about Blüdhaven?"

Dick was silent for a moment before the realization hit him. "You're going to destroy Gotham!"

"Why do you think I was there last November? I was scoping out the drug scene."

"You almost killed my brother," Dick growled.

"And I plan to kill him this time," Sarah promised. "I've improved the drug since I tested it on you. It's perfection now."

"How long?"

"What fun would it be if I told you that?" Sarah gasped, bringing a hand to her chest in mock surprise. "You wanted to know what I was planning, not when."

Dick stood abruptly. "Thank you, Sarah, for the wonderful evening," Dick said, mocking her slightly. "I'm afraid I have an urgent appointment." He walked away from the towards the front of the restaurant.

"I will get what I want, Dick," Sarah called after him. "I always do."

Dick exited the restaurant and stood under the awning. A light rain had started to fall since he entered the restaurant. He walked over to the valet podium and gave a college age guy his ticket, and the young man immediately headed off to retrieve his car.

When the car arrived, Dick slid in the driver's side and coasted onto the back road the restaurant was located on. He turned left, heading straight for Gotham. The road ran straight for several miles, and Dick struggled to maintain his speed in the rain. The car seemed to not want to slow down. A curve came up, and Dick pressed his foot hard on the brake, but and the pedal hit the floor of the car—the break line had been cut! He tried to take the turn, hoping that he would be able to coast to a stop past it and call for help, but his car was going too fast. He hit a pocket of standing water and hydroplaned off the road and into a tree. The front of the car crumpled in, and the force of the crash caused Dick's head to slam forward into his steering wheel as the windshield broke. Glass rained down onto his head and cut into his scalp as he lost consciousness.

* * *

**And that's the chapter! We're winding down to a close, and I know how I want to end it-ish! **

**For those that are wondering the 1998 Pol Roger Brut is a real champagne and sells at $84 a bottle.**

**Thanks again for reading! New chapter within two days!**

**~Red~**


	13. Worries

Chapter 13—Worries

"He's not answering his phone," Tim whispered. He and Jason were back in Gotham on Dick's insistence, following up on the Viscone case. He was still in Blackgate—Dick had been unable to get him transferred to Blüdhaven for trial—and the two had already grilled him. Now, as Red Hood and Red Robin, they were staking out the warehouses where his deals had gone down.

"_Dammit!_" Jason hissed. "Try again."

Tim punched the number in and put the phone to his ear. "Hello? May I speak to Dick Grayson, please? … Tim Drake, his adoptive brother. …What? How badly is he hurt? … Alright, thank you. … Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can. … Goodbye."

Jason was getting impatient. "Well?"

"Dick's car ran off the road," Tim said. "He was going too fast and he hydroplaned. They think his brake line might have been cut, but they have to examine the car first."

"Damn!" This was not supposed to happen. Dick was supposed to get what he needed over dinner and call, not leave early and get himself hurt. This was very bad for their already slow case. It was very possible that the Viscone lead was a dead end, and if it was, they would have nothing to go off of to stop Sarah.

"What do we do now?"

"You can go to the hospital in Blüdhaven, Tim," Jason ordered. "I'm gonna stake out this place."

"You can't make me go home," Tim protested. "You could use my help. This is more than a simple stakeout."

"Dick needs someone he knows at the hospital when he wakes up," Jason countered. He had no idea what was inside that warehouse, and as much as he hated the Replacement sometimes, he didn't want Tim to get hurt on this case. "Besides, you've never dealt with these people. Dick's been poisoned by this bitch twice in less than a year."

"She poisoned him on Thanksgiving?" Tim sounded very surprised.

"He left it out of the report because he had the antidote on him and he didn't want to worry anyone," Jason replied. "Now go." The order came out harsher than he meant it to. He looked away from Tim and put his binoculars up to his eyes. There was a car arriving.

Jason focused on the driver, finding that it was the same one from the night Sarah kissed him. For the briefest instant, Jason found that he missed the feeling of her lips on his—she was a good kisser—then it was gone. She was a psychopath. He had to remember that. The driver got out and opened the rear passenger door, offering his hand to whoever was inside. Jason pulled out one of his guns, ready to take out whoever stepped outside.

Sarah stepped out. Jason's finger tightened around the trigger, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to pull it. There was more going on here than he could perceive. Working with the Outlaws and his encounters with the All-Caste taught him that. His memories had only just been returned to him, and he'd finally come to terms with all that he'd done, coming out almost more bitter in some ways from the revelation, and yet in some ways, in a better state of mind.

"Jason!" Sarah called up to him after a moment. "Why don't you come down and join us, darling?"

Jason cursed and put away his binoculars before jumping down to meet her. "How did you know I was here?"

"Well Dick certainly isn't," she smiled devilishly. "And besides, I've been looking for some alone time with you since that night in the car."

"Yeah, well I don't want it, so no thanks," Jason lied, thankful she couldn't see his eyes through his helmet.

Sarah looped her arm through his and rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. "I think you do," she purred.

Jason merely shrugged and allowed himself to be led into the warehouse. This could possibly be helpful to his investigation.

* * *

Tim was halfway to Blüdhaven when he realized something wasn't right. Dick wouldn't have driven that recklessly in the rain, no matter how urgent things were. He would have just called. Unless he wasn't in his right mind. Tim used his communicator to dial the BPD and turned his bike around on the empty road to head back to Gotham.

He could hear the phone he called ringing for a few moments before it was answered. "Chief Franco, BPD."

"Chief, this is Red Robin," Tim stated quickly. "I've worked with Nightwing before in your city."

"Yes, yes, I know who you are," Franco replied, sounding very annoyed. "What do you want?"

"Officer Grayson was in a near-fatal car accident earlier this evening," Tim said. "I need you to order a toxicology report on Grayson, as well as order his car inspected immediately. Nightwing contacted me telling me he was investigating a drug lord in both Gotham and Blüdhaven. I believe he brought Grayson in as a consultant, and I need to know for sure."

"How would you be able to tell just from a toxicology report and an examination of his car?" Franco asked. She sounded like she was doubting the veracity of his statement.

"Because of how she works," Tim explained hurriedly. "Grayson may not have much time, Chief. I need to know so my partner and I can save him."

"And what makes you think that the doctors at the hospital cannot?"

"Because we're dealing with experimental drugs here. Nightwing was dosed with some a few days ago, and we were almost too late to save him. If you don't work with us, Grayson will die." Suddenly the realization that Dick might not ever wake up hit Tim, and he had to struggle to keep his voice emotionally detached. "My partner and I will contact you in one hour to know what you find." Before the chief had a chance to respond, Tim turned off his communicator and sped towards Gotham.

He rode in silence, thinking about what could happen. Jason and Dick had filled him in as much as they could, going back even to last Thanksgiving, but there were still a lot of holes in the investigation—too many considering Sarah had reached her endgame. There was just so much that failed to add up. How did Sarah keep this all hidden, especially when she was a Blüdhaven cop by day?

Tim's communicator beeped in his ear and he activated it. "What?"

"What's going on in the warehouse district?" came the annoyed, gravelly voice of Batman. "You were there twenty minutes ago."

"Not sure," Tim said. "Ask Jason, he could tell you."

"He's not answering his comm," Bruce growled.

"Well, I have no idea. I'm en route now. I'll let you know." Tim moved to hang up, but Bruce cut him off.

"Where's Nightwing?"

"Uh…" Tim didn't exactly know what to say. "He's… indisposed."

"What do you mean?" Bruce's voice lowered several more octaves than Tim thought possible.

"He was… uh… he was injured about an hour ago just outside of Blüdhaven," Tim explained. "He was working the case from that angle."

"What case?"

Tim mentally slapped himself. "Nightwing was working on a case since November, and he brought Jay in for help, and then Jay contacted me when he got poisoned." And he mentally slapped himself again. Why did he tell Bruce that?

"He was poisoned?"

"Yeah, but he's fine now," Tim said hurriedly. "And he will be. He was injured in his civilian ID, and I'm working with the BPD on finding out exactly what happened."

"Alright." Bruce didn't sound satisfied. "Just be careful." He clicked the comm off, but Jason knew he was going to spend the rest of the night monitoring his and Jason's progress, ready to step in if need be.

* * *

**Well, I'm almost done this fic! Thanks so much to the few of you who have faithfully read and reviewed this story, especially the guests who have reviewed. (I wish I could have personally responded to you guys!) **

**Thanks for reading this chapter, and please leave me a review!**

**~Red~**


	14. Endgame

Chapter 14—Endgame

The warehouse was large, but it was stacked full of wooden crates. According to Sarah, there was enough for every person in the Narrows to have one dose of the drug every day for an entire year. Armed thugs were stationed in strategic locations, a fact Sarah obviously felt the need to mention to him.

"So how are you going to spread the drug?" Jason asked, trying to be conversational. "There's hardly enough here to infect the city."

"There's more than enough," Sarah replied with a wave of her hand. "I just have to be creative about spreading it."

"I see," Jason mused to himself.

He was led deeper and deeper into the warehouse, and he began to feel like he was being led into a trap. The crates wound on and on until Jason and Sarah reached the center of the warehouse. There was a much larger crate all on its own surrounded by five armed guards. "What's in the crate?"

Sarah was silent for a moment before she said, "It's a microwave emitter."

"So you plan to coat the city in mist?" Jason asked. "Didn't Scarecrow already try that?"

"I'm not so idiotic to use the waiter main," Sarah replied scathingly.

"Then what are you going to do, fly over the city?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him, and Jason knew he had hit the mark. "I'm sorry, Jason, but now that you know my plan, I can't allow you to leave." Jason was instantly surrounded by Sarah's goons.

Jason rolled his eyes under his helmet. "Of course you can't. You just gave me your mandatory speech in the form of dialogue."

"And what use is that to you?" Sarah purred. "You're stuck here."

* * *

Tim sped back to Gotham listening to Jason and Sarah's back and forth. His brother was on to something big, and he needed to be there to help him defeat Sarah.

"Of course you can't," Jason said. Tim could just picture the eye roll that accompanied that should accompany that statement. "You just gave me your mandatory speech in the form of dialogue."

"And that use is that to you? You're stuck here." Sarah's voice sounded slightly muffled, as if there was someone between her and Jason.

The streets were still wet from the rain, and water was kicked up by Tim's bike as he pushed the limit of safe driving. Tim activated his comm.

"Hey, Damian, can you do me a favor?"

"What do you want, Drake?" Damian growled through the comm. "I'm busy."

"Doing what, brushing your dog?"

"Drake…"

"Alright, alright, sorry," Tim apologized, hoping he hadn't driven Damian away. "Look, Jason is in trouble and I need your help to save him."

"Why should I help you save Todd?" Damian's classic sneer was all too evident in his voice.

"Because it involves Dick too," Tim replied. "He's in a Blüdhaven hospital. I think his brakes were tampered with, and the BPD are investigating that now. Sarah has Jason in a Gotham warehouse, and there are too many thugs for me to go in alone."

"Have you contacted Father?"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell him anything about the case. I didn't want to worry him."

"And now you're busting a crazy drug dealer in his city."

"She came from Dick's city, and he put Jason and I on the case."

"You should still tell him," Damian replied, although it sounded more like a subtle order.

"If we need him, I'll call him myself," Tim promised. "How soon can you meet me?"

"Ten minutes."

"May be too long."

"I have to get around Father and not trip security," Damian told him. "Or do you want Father to know that I'm sneaking out to help you?"

"Fine," Tim scowled. "Ten minutes and then I'm going in. You better be there."

He cut the comm connection before Damian could reply and focused on his driving. There was some traffic leading into Gotham, and Tim wove through it expertly. A few cars honked indignantly at him, and he assumed that those who didn't noticed his cape and decided to cut him some slack.

When he arrived at the warehouse, Tim was surprised that Damian was already there.

"Took you long enough," the current Boy Wonder scoffed.

"Traffic coming into the city," Tim informed him. "See anything?"

"Thugs in the front and the back. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. You take the front." Tim slipped away into the shadows before Damian could respond. He wasn't about to let the little brat reach Jason first. Although the kid was good when it came to stealth, but he was still impulsive, and any mistakes could get Jason shot. Tim didn't doubt that all of Sarah's men carried armor piercing rounds in their guns.

Gunfire erupted from the front of the building as Damian drew their fire and attention away from the back of the warehouse. Tim dropped down behind the two thugs that had remained behind to guard the back door and knocked their heads together to knock them unconscious. They dropped instantly to the ground, and Tim turned and quickly picked the lock on the door to the warehouse.

The back area of the warehouse wasn't very well lit, and Tim had to activate the night vision in his mask to be able to see properly. He was surrounded by crates stacked nearly to the ceiling. They were uniform and wouldn't be easy to climb without his grapple. Tim ignored that option. The high ceiling and placement of the crates gave the warehouse excellent acoustics, and someone would be sure to hear the gun fire. With no other viable option evident to him, Tim crept forward into the heart of the warehouse.

* * *

**There you go! Another chapter done, and just a few more to go before the end! Thanks so much for reading, and please leave me a review!**

**~Red~**


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